Night Visitor
by BeatlePhan
Summary: Erik is visited by an unusual man, who seems to know all about him...
1. Default Chapter

Night Visitor

The passageways beneath the Opera House were dark, but the man had excellent night vision and easily traveled down the narrow paths toward his destination. He finally came upon a large open area, one corner of which was illuminated by a single candle. The man stopped short of entering the room, and stood observing the silent figure which sat at the organ. 

     Erik was hunched over the keys as if preparing to play, but his hands were folded neatly in his lap and his head was bowed. The organ seemed to be the only item in the room that had escaped major damage. The man in the shadows never made a noise, but suddenly Erik's spine stiffened slightly, and he quickly stood from the bench, turning to face the dark area where the man stood. "Who is there?" Erik demanded.

     A form disengaged itself from the darkness and approached Erik, raising his hands slightly to show he was unarmed. "I intend you no harm, monsieur," he said in heavily accented French. "I merely want to talk to you."

     "I wish to talk to no one," Erik told him. "It would be best for you if you left now!"

     "Nonsense," the man replied. "I traveled quite a distance to see you, my friend, and I cannot leave until I've had my say." He pulled a watch from his pocket, noting the time. "Besides, it is nearly dawn, and I am, shall we say, allergic to sunlight…"

     Erik ran a hand over his sparse hair-he hadn't bothered to find another wig-there was no one left to hide his appearance from now. "Your allergies do not concern me. You are not welcome here, and unless you wish to meet the fate of other unwelcome visitors, you will go now."

     The threat did not alarm the man. "I am sorry about your living quarters," he motioned to the shambles around him. "If I could have been here in time, I would have stopped them."

     Erik's anger was growing. "I will give you one last chance…"

     "Erik, Erik… I am not one of your cowardly Opera managers, whom you may manipulate at your every whim. I will stay until you hear me out."  
     "How did you know my name? Not even… Christine… knew my name…" Erik whispered.

     "That is unimportant. I want to make you an offer."  
     "An offer?!" Erik's eyes flashed angrily, and in spite of himself, the man took a step backwards. "The last time someone made me an offer, monsieur, I ended up in a cage!"

     "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. You may choose to accept or deny what I offer to you, with no consequences that you will not be made aware of." He watched as Erik took a deep breath, calming himself. "Well," the man continued. "Aren't you even slightly interested?"  
     "Not particularly," Erik responded. "But I suppose I must hear you out, since you will not leave otherwise, and I have seen too much death and bloodshed these last days…"

     The man smiled slightly and stepped closer to the Opera Ghost. "I have come, Erik, to offer you… immortality."

     "Immortality?"  
     "Yes, eternal life…"  
     "I know what the word means!" Erik exploded. "What kind of fool do you take me for? Living down here these many years may have made me mad, but certainly not stupid."

     The man sighed; Erik's temper was truly as bad as he had been led to believe. "I was not implying you were," he said through clenched teeth. "If you would control yourself for five minutes, I will explain everything."  
     Erik raised his eyebrow in surprise-no one had ever spoken to the Phantom of the Opera that way before. The man was obviously demented, with his promises of eternal life. What harm would it do to hear him out before forcing him to leave, or killing him? "Forgive me," he said in a dangerously sweet tone of voice. "Pray continue."

     The man nodded. "Immortality," he said. "Not without its price, of course. But think of the things you could accomplish. Your music, your architecture. To outlive those who have tried so hard to destroy you; perhaps even take vengeance on them in ways you could not now."

     "If I were foolish enough to believe you actually could deliver on that offer, what in God's name makes you think I would WANT to live forever? I have waited on death for many years now; I would gladly welcome it with open arms tonight."  
     "Why?"      
     "WHY?! For one who seems to know so much about me, you are quite ignorant!" Erik tore off the mask and gestured to the deformed side of his face. "Would you wish this on anyone, monsieur? For even a few years? Why do you wish to torment me with this face for an eternity?"

     The man pursed his lips and paced around the room. "Has it never occurred to you that science and medicine will, perhaps even in the very near future, advance to such a degree that  your deformity could be repaired? You would look like a normal man, as you have so desperately wanted to for all your life."

     Erik was silent a few moments, then he sighed. "Repairing my face would only fix the problems on the surface. Perhaps I have other wounds that will never heal… and time will not make them any better, nor help me forget…"

     "Ah, yes. Miss Daae." Erik's head jerked up at the mention of her name, but he showed no other reaction. "Have you seen the lovely lady since you sent her away?"  
     "Of course not!" Erik replaced the mask with shaking hands. "I meant for her to be free from me, and I will keep that vow."  
     "She will never be free of you," the man said pointedly. "What do you think she is doing at this moment?"  
     Erik's hands clenched into fists. "She is with her Vicomte; living in the sunlight, perhaps planning her wedding…" his voice broke.

     The man put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "What if I told you she never went with de Chagny; that she is at this moment living alone in her apartment. She has refused requests to return to the Opera, despite many pleadings on the parts of Messrs. Firmin and Andre. Her only thoughts are of you, but she is afraid to return to you, fearing your rejection."  
     "No," Erik moaned. "I won't believe it."

     "Go and see for yourself. Then perhaps you'll believe everything I've told you." The man walked toward Erik's room and opened the door, pleased to see it had escaped the wrath of the mob. "Would you mind if I borrowed your coffin?"

     He smiled widely, and Erik noticed, for the first time, that the man's canine teeth were rather larger than normal… A sudden suspicion entered his mind, but he pushed it aside. "Be my guest," he murmured. He had decided to break his self-imposed exile and would go see Christine.

~~~

     Erik hurried through the pre-dawn darkness, wanting to finish his business above ground before the light of day brought forth the inhabitants of Paris. He stopped a few houses away from Christine's abode, having sudden doubts of the wisdom of going through with his hasty decision to see her. A light in a window beckoned him, and he edged toward it, peering cautiously around the dainty lace curtains. She was there, dozing in a chair, a forgotten cup of tea on the small table beside her. Erik leaned his head gently against the window, drinking in her beauty. But as he stared, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Was she ill? The thought frightened him beyond belief. Then she moved slightly, and awoke.

     Erik pulled back in surprise as she looked directly at the window, her eyes widening. He whirled and ran, heedless of the direction. Behind him, he heard the door open, and her voice calling. "Angel? Angel!" He rounded a corner, his cloak billowing behind him as evidence of his presence. "Angel!" she cried once again. "Please don't leave me!" But the dark figure was gone.


	2. Night Visitor Chapter 2

    I forgot this on the first chapter, sigh. I don't own any of these characters. Dang it. Please note this story is mainly based on the musical, in which Erik's name is never mentioned, that's why my Christine doesn't know his name. I'm still trying to figure out this program, so please forgive grammatical errors, etc. I've tried to correct them all.

 Erik reached his underground lair, flinging his cape carelessly over the slightly damaged throne, not caring that it fell to the floor behind him. She had seen him. And called for him! It had been a mistake to see her. He had tried so hard, these past weeks, to put her from his mind. Now he knew that was impossible. He paced back and forth for some minutes, needing to vent these unwelcome feelings. Finally, he sat at the organ and began playing, pouring his heart into the music.

     Some time later, he wasn't sure how long, the door to his room opened and the man re-appeared, looking a bit sleepy. "Your skills as a host leave much to be desired," the man yawned. "I could have used a bit more rest." Erik ignored him and continued playing. "I suppose this new burst of musical creativity is due to the fact that you took my advice?"  
     Erik slammed his hands on the keys, making the room ring with the discordant sound. "Yes, I saw her. And she saw me!"

    "And?"  
     "And nothing! I ran. What else could I have done?"  
     "Tsk tsk tsk. You ran from her. What is she to think of you? You proclaim your undying love, then send her away, and turn tail the first time she lays eyes on you in weeks. No wonder the poor girl is confused."  
     "Why are you still here?" Erik roared. "I have no need for you, and your life is meaningless to me."

     "Then kill me," the man offered. "If you can."  
      Quick as a flash, Erik tossed the Punjab lasso around the man's neck and jerked. To his great surprise, the man's neck did not break. In fact, despite his strength, Erik was unable to even pull the man off balance. He watched in shock as the man, with a flick of his wrist, yanked the rope from Erik's hand and pulled it off his neck.   
     "A neat trick," he proclaimed, examining the rope with pretended interest, then letting  it drop to the floor. "You see, immortality has its advantages."

     "Who… WHAT are you?" Erik was finally able to ask. 

     "My name is Count…"  
     Alarm bells began ringing, alerting Erik to the presence of an intruder. "Are you expecting anyone?" the man asked.   
     "Of course not." Erik bent to retrieve the lasso, never taking his eyes off the visitor. "But that alarm is for the Rue Scribe entrance, and only two people know of its existence." He walked slowly toward the door, then changed his mind, turning back to resume his seat at the organ.

     Momentarily someone began pounding on the door. "Please open the door!" a feminine voice cried. "Angel?"

     The man raised his eyebrows inquisitively as Erik remained motionless in his seat. "You're not going to let her in?" he inquired.

     Erik shook his head. "I've disrupted her life enough."  
     More pounding on the door. "Angel!" the voice sounded desperate now. "Please, please! I know you're in there!"  
     The visitor rolled his eyes, sighed, then walked quickly to the door, ignoring Erik's cry of protest. He opened it, and Christine nearly fell inside. She gasped when she noticed him, pulling back into the hallway. "You're… you're not…"  
     "Unfortunately, I am not," the man answered, bowing deeply and gazing at her, much to her discomfort. "He is inside."  
     Christine peered over the man's shoulder, finally spying Erik, and she walked slowly toward him. She stood behind him for a few minutes, but he refused to acknowledge her presence. Finally, she reached out tentatively and touched his shoulder.

     He jerked away from her, nearly overturning the organ bench in his haste as he strode toward the throne and sat on it. He seemed to draw strength from the ornate seat, and the pain in his eyes was slowly replaced by icy indifference. "What are you doing here, mademoiselle?" He carefully recoiled the Punjab lasso. "You know how I hate visitors."  
     Christine stole a quick glance at the man, who was silently standing in the shadows, then she replied, "I came to see you-you were at my window, I thought perhaps something was wrong-are you all right?  
     "I haven't been 'all right' for quite some time; you know that. But as you can see I am still alive, so now you may leave with your conscious soothed."

     She was hurt by the tone of his voice and turned to go, then she hesitated, drawing a deep breath. "I must know why you were at my apartment this morning."

     For a long moment he was silent, and she feared he wasn't going to reply, then he began, "I merely… I was out doing business, and I thought…" He covered his face, for once unable to think of a suitable lie. "Damn you, Christine."

     She was not offended, reaching out to touch him again, and this time he did not pull away. "Angel. I have spent these last weeks in torment, realizing too late the mistake I made in leaving you. When you didn't show yourself to me again, I feared you hated me, and I was too scared, and too proud, to seek you out. But when I saw you this morning, I hoped- prayed-that perhaps you had forgiven me; that perhaps you would give me another chance to prove how I truly feel for you." She felt his muscles tense, and added softly, "Can you find it in your heart to do so?"  
     "My heart has not changed," he told her, his icy façade beginning to crumble. 

     "Mine has," she replied. "I _thought_ I knew what love was, now I _know_. And it is you whom I love."

     He turned to her, clasping her hands tightly. "How can you be sure of this?"  
     "You think I don't know? I'm not a silly child any more; believing in fairy tales and stories. If this is not love I feel, than I don't know what it is. All I know is, I want-need-to be with you."

     He held her gaze for a few moments, then released her hands and walked away. "Christine," he began softly. "You have no idea how I've suffered these past weeks. I cannot go through that again."  
     "I've suffered as well," she told him. "Suffered from the guilt of all the things I did to you; suffered from wondering if I'd ever see you again; suffered from the knowledge that my life is nothing without you. I swear I will never hurt you again, if only you'll give me a chance…" Tears fell from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks unheeded.

     Erik could not bear to see her cry. "Christine, my love… if you truly mean it, you know I will welcome you."  
     "I've never meant anything more," she hesitantly put her arms around him, and he returned the gesture. They stood in silence for a few moments, then broke apart as the forgotten visitor approached them.

      "I am glad to see you have both come to your senses," he said, smiling. "But I must leave soon, so, my dear Erik, I must know your answer."

     "Erik?" Christine whispered. "That is your name?"  
     Erik nodded as the man continued. "I think there is something else you should consider, before giving your reply. There is the matter of your… illness."  
     "Illness?" Christine looked at Erik in alarm.

     "It is nothing," Erik frowned at the man. "Certainly no concern of yours."

     "I'm afraid it is. Why do think I have only now chosen to offer you immortality? Your time is short, Erik. A year, perhaps a few months more, but that is all."  
     "Erik! What is he talking about? How does he know this?" Christine demanded.

     "I'm not sure," was his reply. "But don't be alarmed."

     "Why will you not believe me?" the man asked impatiently. 

     "Why should I?"  

     "I will tell you…"

To be continued! 


	3. Night Visitor Chapter 3

     "You, my dear friend, are my great-great-great-great-great grandson, give or take a 'great'. I am a vampire, as I'm sure you've suspected. You are a direct descendent of my youngest daughter. She was only 13 when I was...taken. I have watched over all my family these centuries, but she was dearest to my heart, so I have especially followed her descendents. It will interest you to know she was a gifted pianist, and at least one person in every generation has had a special talent. Artists, musicians, vocalists… but none so talented as you. I was involved in certain 'troubles' when you were born, else I would have taken you and raised you as my son. Alas, by the time I found out, you had disappeared. I picked up your trail in Persia, but again you eluded me. I finally caught up with you here in Paris, but by then you had built your home under the Opera and I felt it best to leave you alone. I had frequent updates on you from a friend."  
     "Madame Giry" Erik sighed in understanding. "Is she also...a…"  
     "No, no. Nor does she know I am. She merely thinks I am a distant relative, which is the truth."

     "Is this a joke?" Christine interrupted. "A vampire? That cannot be."  
     "It can be, my dear, and I am. I have offered my gift of eternal life to Erik, but he has yet to make his choice. There are difficulties, to be sure, but the alternative is death-sooner rather than later, I'm afraid. For his illness is also a curse of my family. Marie, my youngest, died from it when she was only 43."

     "I cannot accept," Erik told him.   
     "May I inquire as to why?"      
     "I could not live and watch Christine grow old and...die. I would rather die myself."  
     "She could also choose to become one of the Family."  
     "Erik…" Christine began.  
     "No!" he cut her off. "I will not let you."  
     "You are being selfish. You do not wish to accept his offer because you fear watching me die, but you think it is all right to make me watch you die? I will not let that happen to you. If you will not accept for your sake, then do so for mine."

     "You don't realize what this would entail. I have lived in darkness all my life. To do so forever would mean nothing to me. You have a life, Christine. A career. Would you be willing to give all that up? I am not willing to let you do so. You deserve so much more."

     "You cannot choose for me, Erik. My life, my career, would be nothing were it not for you. I will not give YOU up."

     "No, Christine, you can't do this. You've worked too hard to give up your dreams now. The Opera Populaire…"

     "Who is to stop my singing? The productions are all night shows. We could live here, together; I would have no need to be out in the daylight hours." He shook his head and turned away from her. "Erik," she tried a new tactic. "I have made my choice. It is now up to you to decide your own fate." She walked toward the visitor. "If you truly are a vampire, then take me now. I am ready."

     "No!" Erik cried, lunging toward her and pulling her away. 

     She jerked free of his grasp. "You can't stop me. I go to him willingly."  
     "Very well," he finally sighed in defeat. "I will do this on one condition-he must take me first. Then you will know what lies in store for you, and have an opportunity to change your mind." He looked from Christine to the man. "Agreed?"  
     Christine nodded and the man said, "A wise choice. Will you please step near to me?" Erik obeyed, his movements a bit nervous. "You will need to remove your jacket and cravat, and unbutton your shirt." Erik did as he was asked, silently handing his clothing to Christine. The man moved behind him, pushing the shirt down and away from the left side of Erik's neck, feeling his muscles tense in response. "There is nothing to fear," he soothed. "The pain is slight and only momentary." He tilted Erik's head away from him, bent close to the exposed area, then without warning bit deeply.  
     Erik's eyes widened in sudden panic. "Christine!" he called. She made an aborted move toward him, stopping when his eyes closed and he sagged in the man's grasp. The man lowered him to the ground, still drinking his life's blood. Finally he stopped and looked up. Christine gasped; his eyes glowed eerily and his mouth and chin were covered in blood-Erik's blood. 

     He stood, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his face with it. "Go to him," he told her. 

     She immediately knelt at Erik's side, taking her own handkerchief and dabbing away the blood on Erik's neck and throat. He didn't seem to be breathing at all… and she nearly screamed in surprise as he gasped suddenly and looked up at her, his own eyes glowing with some new-found force. "Erik…" her voice trembled despite her best efforts to sound calm.

     "Christine." He sat up slowly, pulling his shirt back into position and wincing slightly as the collar touched the wound. She helped him stand, supporting him with her arm around his waist. The heat of her body against his was like a flame-he had touched her before, but never felt her in this manner. His senses were heightened-the smell of her perfume filled his nostrils, her breath was like a gentle breeze… He closed his eyes, almost overcome with the sensory overload.

     "My love," she said, concerned. "Are you all right? How do you feel?"

     He looked down into her eyes, answering, "I feel good. I feel… very good." He took a deep breath, luxuriating in the feeling. "There is no longer any pain."  
     "Of course not," the visitor told him as he approached the pair. "You will no longer have any problems in that respect, my friend. Your heart is as if you had never been ill." He smiled, asking, "Do you regret your decision?"  
     "No," Erik shook his head. "I feel… reborn. Strong, healthy, invincible. I must thank you."  
     "It is enough that you will not die," the man said.   
     "Then I ask only one last favor of you," Erik began. "If I am indeed your descendent, then you must know my last name."  
     "I do."

     Erik waited a few moments, then continued. "Yet you do not want to tell me?"  
     "It's not that I don't want to tell you. It is, rather, that I had hoped you would take on the Family name. It would be a great honor to me if you would do so."     

     Erik stepped toward him, removing Christine's arm from his waist and taking her hand into his own. "Monsieur, the honor would be mine-or I should hope to say," he glanced at Christine, "Ours." She smiled at him, nodding in agreement.   
     The man grinned widely. "My friend, allow me to formally introduce myself…"

A/N Yes, it's a bad place to stop, but the muses do as they will, and there IS more to come, hopefully soon!


	4. Night Visitor Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters. Yet…

      "I am Giovanni von Krolock."

     "von Krolock…" Erik said the name slowly, savoring the sound. "Erik von Krolock. Interesting. But—Giovanni?"

     The count waved his hand dismissively. "I'm from the Sicilian branch of the family. Now, if you will forgive me, I have a long journey home, and time grows short. I'm sure you have many questions regarding your new life style. I have found this book to be helpful." von Krolock pulled various items from one of his coat pockets, finally finding a small book.  "It was written by a very knowledgeable gentleman some 100 years ago-unfortunately, he met with an 'accident' before it could be published." The count grinned. "I took care of the original manuscripts and have had a few privately published, to be given to newcomers."  
     "An accident?" Erik asked wryly.

     von Krolock shrugged. "We couldn't let him reveal all our secrets, could we?" He handed the book to Erik, who glanced at it, then set it on the organ, intending to read it later. "If you have any other questions or problems, you may contact me directly. Madame Giry knows how to get in touch with me." He bowed deeply to Christine and turned to leave. "I must now bid you farewell."

     "Wait!" Erik cried, and the count stopped. "What about Christine? You promised…"  
     von Krolock smiled gently. "Erik, she is for _you_ to take." He watched as Erik's eyes widened in understanding, then he briefly clasped his hand. "Take care, my friend." He melted into the shadows and was gone.

     Erik turned to Christine, taking his coat from her and putting it back on. "You heard what he said?"

     She nodded. "Erik, I need some time-I want to think about this. I have affairs I would need to set in order. Do you understand?"

     "Of course," he agreed, but a small icy tendril of fear crept into his heart. "No one will force you."  
     She smiled at him, glad that he accepted her delay. "Would it be all right, that is, would you mind if I stayed here? The Opera managers have been pestering me so lately, and I need to be away from them."  
     "Christine, you know this is your home as well. I have kept your room for you. Is there anything you need from your apartment?"

     She shook her head. "Not at this time, no." She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand, and Erik hesitantly took her elbow, leading to her room.   
     "You need to rest," he ordered. "You've not been sleeping well lately, have you?"  
     "No, I've not. I've been upset-what I did to you, trying to decide my future, Raoul…"  
     "What of him?" Erik tried to keep the anger from his voice, but she noticed.

     "He was hurt by my decision not to stay with him. It seems I can only cause pain for those I care for."

     "You will soon have an eternity to rectify that," he told her.

     She hesitated a moment, then answered, "Yes. Good night."

     "Good night, Christine." She slowly closed the door and Erik turned to his own room, but sleep was not on his mind. He picked up the book von Krolock had given him and settled in the chair in the corner of his room, reading by the firelight. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

     The next day Erik worked on cleaning up the mess the mob had left behind, salvaging what he could of his few belongings. He had replaced the wig and was as impeccably dressed as before.  Christine helped, organizing what remained of his years of composing, and sweeping up the shredded remnants of the compositions that were beyond saving. She noticed, as the day wore on, that Erik was becoming increasingly restless.  After watching him pace from the organ to his throne and back again, over and over, she finally confronted him. "What is wrong with you? Are you ill?"

     "What?" he looked at her distractedly, continuing the pacing.

     She put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Erik, you are not acting like yourself. I've never seen you this way before."

     He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Christine, I must leave you for a while. I shouldn't be gone long. Lock the door behind me, and you'll be safe." He put on his fedora and cloak and strode toward the doorway.

     "But where are you going?" She followed after him.

     "Please, just do as I say," he instructed, and headed out into the night.  
     Christine watched for a few moments, the locked the door and returned to her cleaning. She had finished and was relaxing with a cup of tea when Erik returned  a short time later. He hung up the cloak and hat and moved toward her with his usual grace. "I'm sorry to have left you like that," he apologized. "Have you supped yet? Is there anything I can get for you?"

     "I was hoping we could have our meal together," she told him.

     He frowned slightly and told her, "You'll find I'm a sporadic diner. But if you wouldn't mind my company, I'll join you as you eat."

     "Yes, thank you. I have eaten so many meals alone lately, I would enjoy having someone to converse with." She followed him to the small kitchen and made up a sandwich, and they sat at the table, Erik sipping on a glass of wine as Christine ate. He longed to speak with her about her decision, but waited, knowing she would broach the subject when the time was right. He only hoped she hadn't changed her mind. They made small talk, then retired for the night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

     Christine had made herself at home, cleaning and re-stocking the pantry. The wardrobe in her room was full of never-worn clothes, and she enjoyed trying them on. Erik spent the next few days sealing off most of the entrances to his lair, and updating the alarms on the remaining ones. He often spent meal times with Christine, finding it a relaxing time to merely talk with her, trying to rekindle the relationship they had once had, and hoping to further it. She was regaining the sparkle in her eyes, and it delighted him to see her smile. In the evenings he sometimes played the piano while she sang, not wanting her voice to suffer from not being used. She had spoken once of returning to the Opera, and it was his fervent hope that she do so.

     Then one night Christine noticed he was again getting restless, though he did a good job of trying to hide it from her. She could tell he was trying to avoid leaving her again, so she decided to make it easy on him, as she had a plan. She faked a yawn, then spoke quietly to him. "Erik, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to retire early tonight. I have a bit of a headache."  
     "Is there anything I can do?" he asked in sincere concern. 

"Oh, no. It's just a minor one, more irritating than painful. A good night's sleep should cure it."  
     "If you are sure…" he said.

     She smiled at him. "I'll be all right. Good night."  
     "Good night, Christine." She shivered slightly at the way he said her name-almost reverently. Then she closed the door and waited silently. Soon enough she heard his footsteps heading away from her room, and she quietly opened the door, peeking out to see him disappear through the doorway of the Rue Scribe entrance. She waited a few moments, then quickly followed.

     It was difficult to keep up with him in the darkness, and she nearly lost him several times. Only the brightness of the moon in the clear sky helped her keep track of him, the reflection off his mask a beacon to help her. She hid in a doorway as he paused for a moment, then turned quickly down a nearby alley. She started to follow, but a muffled scream stopped her. She stood frozen a moment, then hurried on, concerned that something had happened to him. She turned the corner and was shocked at what she saw.

     Erik was on his knees, hunched over a still form cradled in his arms as he drank from the wound he had caused in the figure's neck. Christine gasped softly and his head jerked up, turning toward the sound but missing her as she swiftly darted behind a pile of refuse. He hesitated a minute, then finished his task, carefully laying the figure on the street before standing and taking one last cautious look around before exiting the alley.

     Christine waited a few moments to make sure he was gone, then approached the body. She was shocked to see it was a very young man, and  tears filled her eyes. "Oh, Erik," she sighed, kneeling in sorrow beside the boy.  She pulled back in shock as the boy moaned faintly, and she touched his face, finding it warm. Erik hadn't killed him. Relief spilled over her, then she stood and ran from the area, not wanting to be found alongside the injured youth. She had to reach the Opera before Erik, else how could she ever explain her absence? 

     She dashed down the streets, taking all the shortcuts she could think of, then spied him ahead of her, heading toward the Rue Scribe entrance. She paused but a moment, then entered the Opera, pushing through the crowds waiting for the night's performance to begin. She hurried toward her old dressing room and was grateful to find it empty-no one wanted to use the 'haunted' room. With shaking hands she activated the latch on the mirror and hurried through it and down the path to Erik's house.  The boat of course was not available but he had shown her a narrow ledge around the lake that could be used if necessary. She carefully picked her way around it then ran through the entrance to the lair, carefully disengaging the alarm before doing so. She had just flung open the door to her room when she heard him coming in the Rue Scribe entrance. Silently closing the door behind her, she felt her way through the blackness to her bed and sat on the edge of it, trying to calm her breathing.

     His steady footsteps approached her room and stopped outside. Then he knocked on her door, calling, "Christine." She didn't answer, hardly breathing. Then he knocked again a bit harder, and his voice had an edge to it. "I know you are awake. Open the door."

     She finally obeyed, pulling the door open just a few inches and peering out at him. "What is the matter?"  
     He stared at her a moment, then said, "I know you were there."

     Her face flushed but she only replied, "What are you talking about?"  
     "Come now, Christine. Even if I were not a… vampire," he reluctantly spoke the word, "Don't you think I would have known it was you in that alley?"  
     She opened the door and stepped out to face him. "Yes, it was I," she admitted cautiously.

     He grabbed her left arm. "Why were you following me? Was it so much to ask for a little trust?"  
     "I was worried!" she exclaimed. "You started behaving strangely, and I could tell you wanted to leave again. You wouldn't tell me what was the matter. How else was I to find out?" Tears filled her eyes as her arm began to hurt from his grasp.

     He noticed and immediately released her. "I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to touch her, but she pulled her arm against her body and rubbed it gently. A bruise was beginning to show.  Erik clenched his fist, turning from her. "So, now you have seen what I have become. I was feeding. I dislike it, but I must do it to survive. I would rather you had not found out in this fashion. I would have told you in time."

     "_You _should have trusted _me_ and told me immediately. We cannot build a relationship of trust if there are secrets between us."

     He was silent for a long moment, then he spoke quietly. "You are, of course, correct." He turned to face her again, his face a stoic mask. "I must apologize for not trusting you, and I am very sorry for hurting your arm. Will you allow me to examine it?"  
     "There's no need," she told him, pulling back slightly. "It's just a small bruise, and it will fade in time." She looked him in the eyes, trying to read his expression, then she said, "I know you didn't kill him…"

     "It is not necessary to kill. I will not be responsible for more deaths if I can help it."

     "I'm glad," she responded as she returned to her room. 

     "Christine-can you forgive me?" 

     She smiled a bit sadly at him and replied softly, "Good night, Erik." Then she closed the door. He stood there a few moments, wanting to say so many things to her, but the moment was not right. He laid his hand on the door and whispered, "Good night." Then he went to his own room, having much to consider.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

     Early the next morning Christine quietly opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the main room. Erik was nowhere to be seen-the door to his room was closed-for which she was grateful. She pulled her cloak around herself and softly but quickly went to the Rue Scribe exit. After one last wistful look behind, she closed the door and re-activated the alarm, then scurried toward the exit to the outside world. 

     A few moments later Erik came out and approached her room, knocking hesitantly. "Christine?" He waited a few moments then knocked again. When she didn't answer, he cautiously entered her room, worried that something was wrong. He was surprised to find her bed made, hastily from the look of it, and a quick examination of the room revealed that her cloak and shoes were missing as well. He ran to the Rue Scribe exit and burst through the door, ignoring the ringing of the alarm as he hurried up the passageway. 

He knew she had been this way-he could smell the traces of her perfume in the air. "Christine!" he called in desperation, but there was no answer. He reached the final doorway and pulled it open a bit, but the bright sun made him slam it closed just as quickly. He stood for a moment, panting from his exertions, then he pounded the door in despair, finally sinking to the floor as the realization hit him. Christine was gone…


	5. Night Visitor Chapter 5

Disclaimer:  No one belongs to me, never has, probably never will. Sigh.

A/N: FINALLY! I was beginning to think my muses had gone off with von Krolock (and WHO would blame them if they had? G)

     The door opened slowly, and a cloaked figure stepped quickly inside before closing it behind her. Christine hurried down the passageway confidently despite the darkness.  Her footsteps slowed, however, as she noticed the open doorway before her. She had closed that door on her way out, she was positive; closed it and activated the alarm. Yet it was now open, and she felt a sudden fear. Something had happened in her absence…

     She cautiously stepped through the opening and stopped-the room was pitch black except for a faint glow coming from the far corner. She headed towards it, straining to see or hear any possible intruder, but there was only the dark silence. She slowed when she noticed the light was coming from her room, and knew then that something indeed was wrong. Her room was never left open; Erik had always respected her privacy. With trepidation, and a courage she hadn't known she possessed, she cautiously peered inside.

     A single candle on the small table illuminated the occupant. He was sitting there, in the chair beside her bed, slumped over with his head in his hands. She saw his shoulders shaking, and with a quick intake of breath realized he was crying. He heard the sound and looked up, hardly daring to believe his eyes. "Christine?" The sadness of the world seemed to be spoken in that one word, and she hurried toward him, taking his hands in hers as he stood.

     "Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry. I lost track of the time."

     "I thought that you had left me," he spoke in a hoarse whisper, and she wrapped her arms around him.

     "No! I will _never_ leave you!" she told him fiercely, leaning her face against his chest and tightening her grip. "You must believe me." She felt his arms gather her closer as she looked up into his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

     He didn't reply, just held her as if he'd never let go, but finally he lowered his arms and stood back from her. She took his hand and picked up the candle. "Come; I need to tell you what I've done today." They walked out into the main room and Christine quickly lit the other candles. She led him to a sofa and sat, still holding his hand.

     "I will be honest with you-when I left this morning, I wasn't sure I would be returning." His hand tightened on hers momentarily in response to this, but he showed no other reaction. "I needed to get away; to plan my future. So, I went to the Opera Populaire. Messrs. Andre and Firmin were quite pleased to see me." She flushed a bit as she remembered the enthusiastic welcome she'd received from the managers; Andre had nearly hugged her! Despite how he felt at the moment, Erik's lips twitched as he attempted to contain a smile, having no difficulty in imagining the reception Andre and Firmin had given her. "And we were able to negotiate a contract that will allow me to return to their employ."  
     "Excellent," Erik murmured. "I do hope you held out for a decent salary?"  
     "Oh, they offered more than I had intended to ask for, but I pretended to haggle with them so they felt they were getting a bargain."  Christine had in fact been stunned by the amount offered, and had been hard pressed to act as if she felt it too negligible for one of her talent-she was indeed becoming a prima donna! "After that was settled, I went back to my apartment for a while to take care of some things, and to think."

     Erik looked at her expectantly as she gathered her thoughts.  "If I were to join you, I would be giving up many things, Erik." She looked him in the eyes as she spoke, and noticed the pain her remark caused, but went on, "I could no longer watch the sun rise; no longer eat at the sidewalk cafes. I would miss the beauty of the flowers growing in the gardens in the spring, and the sound of the birds singing in the evening. I could no longer walk in the snow, when the reflection of the sun is so bright it is nearly blinding. I'd be missing _so_ many things I love…  
     Erik's eyes closed in despair as she talked, and she was silent for a moment. "So, I left my apartment and spent the rest of the day in the park. Because," she continued quietly, "I wanted my last day in the sun to be filled with as many of the things I will miss, as possible." Her gaze never left his face, and as she watched, he stiffened in sudden understanding at what she'd said.

     He opened his eyes and stared at her in surprise. "Your… _last day_… in the sun?" He held his breath, certain he'd misunderstood her.

     "Yes, my last day, Erik. Because as I was thinking of all I would miss, I realized they meant nothing  if you weren't with me. I'd rather spend my life in darkness, than to be one more day in the sunlight without you. And I can still walk in the snow, and see the flowers, and perhaps hear the birds sing… at night…"

     "Christine, are you _sure_ about this? I couldn't stand it if you were unhappy."

     "I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life," she told him. "I'm ready to be yours." She stood, pulling him to his feet and staring into his dark eyes. "I'm ready now." She raised a hand and pulled her hair away from her neck. 

     "Perhaps you should wait a while longer," he turned away from her, clenching his fists. "Especially now that you have your career to think of. It was not my intention to rush you  into a decision."

      She sighed, knowing what he was thinking. "Don't you _want_ me to join you?" she asked.

     He whirled, surprising her with his speed of movement. "How can you even ask that? You know I do. I have always… wanted you." His shoulders slumped. "But I don't want you to waste your life with me."

     "Erik! After all this time, don't you know how I feel? What else must I do to convince you?  I have offered you my soul, and yet you hesitate." She looked up at him, trembling. "What more can I give to you?"

     "Oh, Christine. You have given me so much-I feel I have taken so much from you already-that I'm afraid." 

     She stepped closer to him, whispering, "Afraid of what?"

     "That I won't be worthy of you; worthy of your love. I have never before been worthy of _anyone's _love." His eyes glittered. "And now when you say you want to be with me, it frightens me."

     "I'm frightened too," she admitted. "But whatever happens, we'll have each other. What more could we ask for?" She smiled, and was overjoyed when Erik, for the first time in many months, smiled back at her. "Please, no more uncertainties. I'm ready."

     Erik stepped closer to her and gently stroked her throat with a slightly trembling hand. He could hear the blood rushing through her veins, and the sound was intoxicating. He leaned forward, then murmured, "I'm sorry, Christine, I'll have to remove my mask to do this…"

      She reached up and deftly slid the mask off his face before he could react. "You need never wear it again, if you don't wish to. Your face is precious to me." He stared at her in surprise, and took the mask she held out to him and carefully set it aside. Then Christine leaned her head back as he bent over her, lightly kissing her throat before biting. She cried out softly, her hands grasping his upper arms tightly, then he felt her go slack. He held her as he drank, feeling her energy surge into him; feeling her become _part_ of him. He finally finished and drew back, looking into her face in alarm. She was so pale! He imagined he must have looked the same way, and knew how much courage it had taken for her to do this, after seeing it done to him. He cradled her head against his chest, and after a few minutes, she moaned softly and looked up at him.

     "I'm sorry I hurt you," he began, brushing the hair away from her face as she regained her balance and stood on her own.

     "Hush," she commanded, pulling back from him a bit. "I'm fine."  He carefully wiped the blood away from her wound, and she took his hand in hers. "Erik," she began uncertainly. 

     "Yes?"

     She was blushing furiously, the color returned to her face. "I want… need… you to take me… completely…"

     He understood immediately but feigned ignorance. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked gently as he kissed her hand, then trailed his lips up her arm.

     "Please…" She swooned a bit and he held her against his body.

     "You must be more precise than that." His lips settled against her earlobe, and he nibbled it softly.

     "Erik!" She felt weak with desire. "If you don't take me, I'll… I'll…"  
     "You'll what?" His breath caressed her ear.   
     "I'll DIE!" she exclaimed vehemently.

     He chuckled softly. "My love, you just abandoned all abilities to do that."

     Christine decided enough was enough and took the initiative. She framed his face in her hands, kissing him deeply, and he almost pulled back from her in shock. The deformed side of his face burned with the heat of her touch. He was never sure quite why, but that part of his face had always been nearly numb-probably from nerve damage-and the sudden sensation of her fingers on his newly awakened skin was almost painful. He  returned the kiss, pulling her even closer.

     "Erik, Erik…" she murmured over and over. His name had never meant much to him, but hearing her say it now, it seemed as though the angels were speaking it. The heat of her body against his became more intense, and he gathered her up into his arms, his eyes never leaving hers.

     "Christine, you are mine," he told her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  "Forever." He walked into her bedroom, pausing only to close the door behind him. 

     And their eternity began…

And I need you now tonight  
And I need you more than ever  
And if you'll only hold me tight  
We'll be holding on forever  
And we'll only be making it right  
Cause we'll never be wrong together  
We can take it to the end of the line  
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time  
I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark  
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks  
I really need you tonight  
Forever's gonna start tonight  
Forever's gonna start tonight  
  
**Total eclipse of the heart  
MUSIC:Jim Steinman - Lyrics:Jim Steinman**


End file.
